Forever This Time Read Online Free PDF Page B

ready to talk about Dad yet. Josie scanned the kitchen, trying to figure out what was different about it. The cupboards were the same aged oak they’d always been, but had new nickel-colored knobs. The countertop was the same tan Formica as always, but she couldn’t put her finger on what made it all feel different.
    As she glanced toward the shiny sink with a dishtowel hung neatly over the faucet, it hit her. The kitchen was not only clean; it was spotless. No cans on the countertop, no dishes in the sink, no trash overflowing its bin.
    â€œIt looks great in here.” She pulled her light sweater off and hung it on the back of a chair. “Different.”
    Mom leaned against the shelf beside the sink. “Well, it’s all pretty much the same kitchen as when you left. Maybe a little cleaner, though.” She gave a rueful chuckle. “My housekeeping skills are better these days than they used to be.”
    Josie nodded, unsure of what to say. They both heard the unspoken words in Mom’s last sentence.
    â€œOkay, well…” Mom spun her wedding ring around as she looked everywhere but at Josie. “Are you hungry? Did you have lunch?” She moved toward the refrigerator. “I have some deli meat. I could make you a sandwich. There’s turkey. From Zeb’s—you know—the kind you like.” She started to open the fridge, then turned back around. “Or, I guess, used to like. I’m not sure you do anymore.”
    Josie braced herself, ready for whatever assault that was bound to be the next thing out of Mom’s mouth. She tried to loosen her clenched hands, one finger at a time.
    The last thing she wanted was a processed-turkey sandwich from the fifty-year-old deli in town, the one with a questionable steak tips barrel and pigs’ feet in glass jars. But Mom was standing at the fridge, obviously having no idea what to do with the daughter she hadn’t seen in way too long. Josie didn’t need to make this any harder than it already was.
    She tried to smile. “I’d actually love a sandwich, thanks. And maybe a Pepsi, if you have one.”
    Mom looked relieved to have something to do with her hands as she deftly put together two sandwiches, piled on some potato chips and pickles, and brought everything to the little breakfast table in the corner of the kitchen. Josie took in the woven green place mats and baby rosebuds in a crystal vase as she sat down.
    Fresh-cut flowers in the kitchen? In a vase?
    â€œThanks. This looks great.” Josie took a bite of the sandwich, planning to choke it down as best she could. After all, if she was chewing, she wouldn’t have to talk—a distinct advantage at this point.
    She glanced around the kitchen, taking in the white ceramic canisters that had always snugged up against the fridge, the pot of herbs on the sill, the green teapot-shaped clock over the window. It was quiet enough to hear its soft click-click-click as the second hand edged around.
    Mom picked up her sandwich, then set it back down with a shaky breath, looking at the clock. “Why is it clocks always move slower when you’re worried?”
    â€œBecause you’re worried.” Josie wiped her mouth with the paper napkin Mom had set beside her plate. “How is he really doing?”
    Mom shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to know. They’re throwing around so many big words—so many possible outcomes. I just—I don’t know.” She blinked hard, dabbing her napkin at her eyes.
    â€œWhen are you going back to the hospital?”
    â€œAfter we eat. I just wanted to be here in case you came home.” She waved a shaky hand near her face. “I mean, I guess it’s not home, really. I mean, not to you anymore.” She fiddled with her hair. “Wow. Sorry. I don’t know what I mean anymore.”
    Just then the phone rang, and Mom leaped to pick it up. After a